


Captain Dragneel's Curious Plan

by leetokeen



Series: The Bold Adventures of Dread Pirate Natsu Dragneel [3]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Alvarez Teikoku Hen | Alvarez Empire Arc (Fairy Tail), Gen, Humor, Space Pirates, friggin spriggan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 10:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19171135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leetokeen/pseuds/leetokeen
Summary: Fleet Commander Erza Scarlet and Captain Gray Fullbuster seek answers from the crew of theIgneel, while Mavis fights for the survival of the allied guilds on the surface of Alvarez.





	Captain Dragneel's Curious Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [splendidlyimperfect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/splendidlyimperfect/gifts).



The _Igneel_ slipped through subspace like a superluminal fish through water. 

Two hours had passed since the events in Vistarion, and an awkward silence hung between the occupants of the bridge. Zeref, captive Emperor of Ishgar, was seated towards the rear under the watchful gaze of Captain Fullbuster. The Emperor stared mirthlessly ahead, hands folded in his lap, expression blank. Whenever Gray shifted his weight, the floor creaked unsettlingly, and the smell of dirty laundry— _Dread Laundry_ as Natsu had called it—wafted through the air. 

Fleet Commander Erza Scarlet, standing behind the pilot’s chair, remained stoically silent as she looked out the viewport. She was always taken in by the streaking rainbow of subspace radiation; it evoked powerful memories from a tumultuous time in her life. Not that recent events were any less tumultuous… her eyes shifted from the kaleidoscope of colours and onto the mop of tousled pink hair in front of her. _What did he hope to accomplish?_

She glanced to her left at the mysterious teleporting man leaning on the bulkhead. He casually fiddled with a concealable vibroblade, picking at some unseen dirt beneath his fingernails. The small, almost imperceptible bulges in his red vest suggested this was only one of _many_ vibroblades this man owned. His facial scars pointed to a history of bladed combat that hadn’t always gone his way. 

She was peripherally aware of new types of lacrima technology that could make possible the feats she had been apart of on the planet’s surface—her knotted stomach a lasting testament to the effect of the teleportation field—but she hadn’t heard of any being perfected for personal use. _Typical pirates: they somehow get all the best gear before we do._

At that moment the man looked up, as if he had detected her thoughts, and they locked eyes. “See anything you like, princess?” He cocked an eyebrow and gestured towards himself theatrically. Erza returned the favour: she rolled her eyes as hard as she could and had no trouble affecting a look of such total disdain it could have melted the hull. Whenever she found herself in the company of imbeciles, her thoughts always turned to Jellal, her introverted space dork with a big heart and soft words. _Fuck, I miss you. Stay safe down there._

 

* * *

 

Mavis sat on the bench of her Alvarezian prison cell, chin resting on her hands, eyes vacant and deep in thought. An observer could have almost heard the sound of gears turning in her head as she ran through a thousand different escape scenarios, ceaselessly analyzing, number-crunching, calculating. _No, that won’t work. Damn it._ Her feet kicked the empty air of her dank, foul-smelling cell. 

Looking up from her thoughts, she took in her surroundings for the umpteenth time. The cells were arranged in a circular pattern, each one angled in such a way to allow for an uninterrupted view towards a central courtyard. Imperial guards patrolled the perimeter like clockwork. She noted the scuffs and bloodstains therein and guessed that the courtyard was where the executions were held, affording the prisoners a lovely view of the deaths of their colleagues. Mavis turned away in disgust. 

The captive guilds were neatly divided into their respective cages, probably to minimize opportunities for collaboration. Fairy Tail here, Sabretooth there, Quattro Puppy further down. What Alvarez didn’t realize, Mavis hoped, was that the allied guilds were hardly in need of verbal communication to know what the others were thinking. Personalities and patterns had emerged over time, and she could factor those into her plans without ever needing to coordinate or confirm. 

Mavis looked across the courtyard to the cell housing Crime Sorcière. She discerned the outline of Jellal resting serenely on his own bench, arms crossed behind his head. Meredy and Ultear were seated on the floor close by, conversing quietly. Without any kind of telepathy, she already knew exactly what would happen if she broke the lock to that particular guild’s cell. It was just one of those things you could count on as a tactician. 

You have six hours, they had said. Six hours to return Emperor Spriggan, kidnapped seemingly at random by a crazed pirate? And how exactly did they expect Mavis to engineer his return sitting in this cell? She reasoned that her captivity was mostly a formality: Alvarez had always intended to execute them as soon as the affront took place, they just needed to be seen as being fair about it. Perception is reality, Mavis thought ruefully. She looked back at Jellal; his chest rose and fell peacefully in his sleep. 

Her timepiece chimed; the artificial ultimatum was over. She had devised a plan—such as it was—but it wasn’t as far ahead as she would have liked. As she slipped into despair, she had the sensation of a hand coming to rest gently on her shoulder. _“You’ve got this, Mavis,”_ a voice whispered in her ear. _“I believe in you.”_ She sat up and put her own hand up to her shoulder, grasping nothing but the cloth of her uniform. _Thanks, Zera. You’re always there for me._

For the first time since her captivity began, a smile graced her lips.

Mavis turned as a small commotion drew her attention to the dark archway that led into the courtyard. The Alvarezian Imperial Guards had arrived on schedule, weapons in hand, and solemnly made their way toward her cell. _It’s time._

 

* * *

 

After flying for four more hours, Dread Pirate Natsu Dragneel hopped out of the _Igneel_ ’s pilot chair and stretched his arms over his head. “Ahhhh,” he moaned, louder than necessary. With a scruffy chequered scarf around his neck and an intricate blaster pistol holstered at his thigh, he certainly looked the part of Dread Pirate, Erza noted. As he finished his stretching, she turned to face him, a scowl written across her face. “So, Natsu. May we know where we’re going?” She uncrossed her arms and rested her gauntleted fists on her hips. 

“Oh, for sure! I just need Emperor Friggin’s help for a minute. Once that’s taken care of, I can drop you off wherever you like. Although I could use a fire-starter like you in my crew, if you wanted to stick around after.” He winked and grinned disarmingly, resting his hands on the back of his head. 

Erza scoffed at the remark, and she heard Gray do the same. “You obviously know nothing about me. I would never abandon my comrades in Fairy Tail, especially not to go gallivanting around the galaxy causing death and destruction.”

Natsu took a step back, as if physically struck by Erza’s words. “Whoa now, Red. That’s not how we operate around here. Right Happy?” A quick “Ayyye sirrr!” was fired off from somewhere on the bridge, but Erza couldn’t tell exactly where it came from. 

“Whatever. You dumped a year’s supply of plasma into our shields during the Battle of Tartaros, and then you stole our victory feast. You expect me to believe you’re really just a great guy and the cannons are just for show?”

“Self-defense only, Dragon Slayer’s Honour,” Natsu replied with passable sincerity, placing his hand over his heart. Erza caught the wink he directed at his unseen first mate and rolled her eyes. 

A calm voice pierced their exchange from the rear of the bridge. “That’s interesting. How can I help you, Natsu? While you still live long enough to require help, that is.” The threat was overt, but something about Zeref’s tone made it seem one part jovial and one part inevitable. Erza suppressed a shiver.

“Hey man, I really appreciate your willingness to pitch in,” Natsu said as he walked over to Zeref and clapped him on the shoulder. Zeref didn’t bat an eye. “Once this is all over, I’ll just drop you back off at the palace so you can keep doing your royal… prancing, or whatever. I’m sure your friends haven’t even noticed you’re gone yet!”

Zeref delicately removed Natsu’s hand off his shoulder. He sighed and affected a facial expression that said _I’m talking to an idiot._ “Not only would my absence be _immediately_ noticed, but the fact that these Fairy Tail captains were also picked up by your teleporting friend means that the allied guild contingent that was present for the peace talks has almost certainly been executed already. My ministers may have waited a few hours to demand my safe return, but I can promise you that every guild captain on Alvarez will be dead by day’s end.” Zeref stiffened. “And I don’t _pran_ —”

Erza lunged forward and caught Zeref’s tunic in her durasteel fist, lifting him a clear meter off the metal bench. “If that’s truly the case and our comrades are dead, then you’ll be joining them on the other side, coward!” Gray and the teleporting man shot to attention behind her, ready to act at a moment’s notice. The swish-clack of a concealable vibroblade confirmed the sudden deadly turn in the conversation. 

“I can’t die, remember? I reminded your brooding colleague over there when we first came aboard.” He nodded his chin toward Gray. Zeref’s arms and legs dangled helplessly at his side. 

“Heeeey, whoa!” Natsu jumped forward and spread his arms between Erza and Zeref, the latter finding himself unceremoniously dropped back onto the bench. “Take it easy everyone. No one is dying today—hopefully—and in fact I think we can accomplish the reverse instead.”

 _The reverse?_ Erza glanced at Natsu, trying to make sense of the seemingly lighthearted comment. She looked back at Gray, who managed a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. “Don’t look at me; all I do is _brood_ all day, apparently.” 

Erza snapped back to the Dread Pirate. “What are you talking about, Dragneel? Reverse what? Can you tell us your stupid plan already?” Erza sounded as exasperated as she felt. With Zeref’s pronouncement, the fate of her comrades weighed heavily on her mind. “I’ve a good mind to just knock you out and commandeer this ship.” 

Natsu’s grin couldn’t have possibly been any wider. “Take it easy, Red. I’m just taking the Emperor fishing!” 

 

* * *

 

Mavis looked out with interest as the three-man execution squad made its approach to her cell. Somehow, she just knew they would start with her. She was glad for it.

Mavis sized up the approaching party: two imperial lancers, each heavily armed and armoured, and a fancy-looking man of the court— _Chief Minister Yajeel_ , she realized. _What an honour_. The death procession neared with each passing step, Yajeel shuffling ahead of the lancers in a tight triangular formation. 

Mavis glanced around her. She caught movement in the other cells as the allied guilds became aware of what was transpiring. Hundreds of faces peered out, torn between looking at her or the approaching imperials. She knew them all. She had led Fairy Tail to countless storied victories, had gained renown throughout Ishgarian space, had masterminded the annihilation of Tartaros and the Baram Alliance, and was here, now, poised to die in front of her comrades and friends because of a highly unlikely series of events.

The party stopped in front of her cell. One of the two lancers approached the locking mechanism—a bright blue lacrima—and disarmed it with a quick jolt from his lance. The cell door creaked open, and Chief Minister Yajeel confidently strode into the doorway. He puffed himself up and looked down at Mavis along the bridge of his nose. “It’s t—”

Yajeel had been practicing this part, making sure that his cadence and intonation was suitably dramatic but not too pretentious, so his brain registered a measure of disappointment when a knee strike into his throat prevented him from finishing his sentence. Mavis rebounded and crouched, deftly sweeping the feet from beneath the closest lancer. At this point, surprise started to register on the execution party’s expressions. Yajeel’s legs crumpled as he instinctively reached for his mangled windpipe, gurgling in search of his final breath. The second guard awkwardly tried to raise his lance, but Mavis was counting on the close quarters, and his weapon’s main advantage—its reach—was suddenly its main weakness. As the first lancer continued his fall, Mavis snatched his blaster pistol, leveled it in a lightning-fast motion, and fired.

A screeching bolt of plasma lit up the courtyard before slamming into the cell across the way. Where Mavis had once spied a serenely sleeping Jellal, a whirling dervish of robes and steel now burst out of the gate, and the nearby guards disappeared one-by-one as they were enveloped in Crime Sorcière’s deadly wake. 

Mavis fought fiercely with the remaining lancer, setting both hands on his weapon and trying to twist it from his grasp. Her strengths in this engagement were intellect and surprise, but neither could help her against a fully-aware—and enraged—member of the Emperor’s elite legionnaires. She tried leverage instead, hoping to use the guard’s power against him. She took a kick to the knee and faltered, but the lance remained firmly in her grip. 

As she struggled, she caught sight of Jellal, Meredy and Ultear standing over a growing pile of dead guards. They were firing commandeered pistols into the locking lacrimas holding the other cells shut, overloading them with plasma fire. As the mechanisms failed and the cell gates flung open, Jellal fired three shots into the air and roared a fearsome battle cry that shook the courtyard: “For Ishgar!”

Pandemonium erupted. The allied guilds streamed out of their cells like a crushing tidal wave, twisting and spinning through their opponents as only Ishgarian martial artists could. Before long, a cacophonous alarm blared into the courtyard. The guards were pressed into a corner, firing indiscriminately, wasting the last moments of their lives with pointless violence before facing the terrible wrath of the guilds. 

Just as she was taking in the scene, Mavis found herself wrenched to the ground, the lance’s lacrima only centimeters from her face. She locked eyes with her foe, looking down the entire length of the lance, and his face was a twisted mask of anger. He knew his life was at an end, but he was resigned to take Mavis with him. “Die, witch.” She closed her eyes and heard the lacrima release.

Seconds later, a tremendous weight crushed the air out of Mavis’ lungs. The lancer’s body, now bearing an enormous gaping hole, had fallen directly on top of her. As she wriggled out of the visceral mess and up to her feet, she caught a quick nod from Jellal. _Thanks._ She nodded back. 

The dust was starting to settle in the courtyard, but the blaring alarm was overwhelming Mavis’ other senses. She waited for a pause between blasts of sound and whistled for everyone’s attention. “Their reinforcements are moments away,” she cried. “Take up defensive positions!” The Fairy Tactician pointed to the cells and then gestured to the archway on the far side of the courtyard, the only way in—or out—of the prison block.

Benches, tables and desks were ripped from their moorings and turned sideways as makeshift barricades, and the various guilds crowded behind them. Those with stolen pistols leveled their weapons toward the dark archway, eagerly anticipating the appearance of their foes.

The siren blared on. As Mavis grew accustomed to it, her other senses returned to her. For example, she discovered the stench of hot plasma and seared bodies had been wafting through the courtyard. She wasn’t sure which of the two smells was worse. 

On the faces of her newly-freed comrades, Mavis saw a mix of fatigue, relief, and determination. They awaited the arrival of the reinforcements from the relative shelter of their impromptu defenses, but facing the coming onslaught would not be easy. Mavis’ mind raced through the strategic possibilities: _how many soldiers will they send to put us down, if they think we’re responsible for Zeref’s kidnapping? Hundreds? Thousands?_

Throughout the courtyard, an eerie stillness took hold. The allied guilds took their focus off the archway and shared quick glances left and right. Was the legion off planet? Was this all Alvarez could muster? 

And then… the siren stopped. It was replaced by the quiet shuffling of clothing and boots, and the soft metallic clack of drawn pistols bumping the sides of the upturned benches and furniture. Mavis sent her thoughts into overdrive: _why would they turn the siren off? Maybe we have an ally on the inside. Or they could be sending in a negotiation team and want to be heard. Or maybe they have their full legion mustered outside that archway, so they don’t need the alarm anymore. Or_ —

Mavis was brought back to reality by an unholy cackling emanating from beyond the archway. She peered into the darkness as her comrades, still kneeling behind their barricades, straightened their arms and refocused their aim. 

It was a man. 

His silhouette began to take shape in the gloom as he strode forward to face the assembled might of the guilds. He wore clothing suitable to Vistarion’s arid climate, looking almost like he had ribbons tied around his neck. His massive spherical earrings jangled noisily as he approached, made into a disjointed mix of sounds by the additional metallic clinking of his golden bracers. He laughed maniacally with every step forward. Upon fully entering the courtyard, he stopped, hands resting proudly on his hips. 

“Fools of Ishgar!” he bellowed. “You have done me a great service this day. With Zeref gone, I am free to take up the reins of the Alvarez Empire.” He laughed with zealous fervour. “You say you’re here for peace? Hah! Peace through power. Alvarez will have peace when Ishgar is but a flaming ruin.” 

The man gazed across the assembled captains and their crews, snorting with derisiveness. 

“I am Ajeel, Desert King of Alvarez, and as of now… Emperor.” He bowed low, spreading his arms wide. “Come… face your end!”


End file.
